Unexpected: Slot Cars, a Very Old Church Pipe Organ, and [Soon to Be] Turtle Stew

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It was a beautiful spring day today. Our motorcycle group at church rode a planned ride toward the south of here.

So far, our fledgling group has ridden in places other than the mountains to the north because we have been trying to avoid cooler weather and the potential for there being slippery conditions from ice, snow, or sand. You may recall that the roads in South Carolina can be very twisty, especially entering the Blue Ridge, but elsewhere very sweeping and in some places very straight. The latter is the terrain we covered today.

Our group consisted of five initially, then four as one dropped out to continue on to a sporting event his kids were participating in. There was Jim on a Honda Goldwing, another Jim on his Harley Davidson, Sue on her Honda Shadow 750 Ace, and Steve on his Honda VTX 1300.

I have to tell you that Sue has been riding some eighteen years now, and is the most senior of our group. It is impolite to divulge a lady's age, but suffice it to say that she is ten years my senior. She keeps up pretty well, and is quite a trooper. I hope I am still able to ride in another ten years.

The ride today is pleasant; our intention being to spend some time in the beautiful outdoors, eat lunch, and return. It will be only about one hundred and fifty miles. The weather was certainly perfect: fifty degrees at the start, seventy-five degrees at the end, low humidity, moderate winds, and very sunny. South Carolina frequently has days like this. That is one good reason to live here. The other reasons include good motorcycling!

We stopped for a while in downtown Abbeville. The downtown section has been fixed up over the years and is quite attractive with a very large grassy square in the center. This historical marker describes some of the surroundings.



This is what the square looked like in 1910:



The opera house is a historic structure that is still used for legitimate theatre productions.



The Abbeville County Confederate Monument stands in the square. It was erected in 1906 by the Daughters of the Confederacy of Abbeville County. Remember that South Carolina was the first to secede from the union at the start of the Civil War, and first mass meeting to consider doing so was held here. The last cabinet meeting of the Confederacy was also held here, so in a sense, both the beginning and the end of the Civil War occurred in Abbeville.

The monument shown is actually Abbeville's second Confederate monument. The first was erected August 23, 1906 but was damaged by fire from a Christmas tree display on December 28, 1991. The damaged marker was donated to the Southern Culture Centre by the local United Daughters of the Confederacy chapter. The current marker was erected on December 14, 1996. It was hand-carved by Italian sculptor Dario Franco Rossi.

The monument photos are by Brian Scott of Greenville, South Carolina.



Inscriptions on the monument read as follows.

South Side: "The world shall yet decide,
In truth's clear, far-off light,
That the soldiers who wore the gray, and died
With Lee were in the right!" ---------- "Brave men may die - right has no death;
Truth never shall pass away." ---------- "Come from the four winds,
O breath and breathe upon these slain,
That they may live."
East Side: "On fame's eternal camping ground their silent tents are spread
And glory guards with solemn round the bivouac of the dead."

Erected by the Daughters of the Confederacy of Abbeville County, 1906. Dedicated to the soldiers of Abbeville District.
East Base: The first mass meeting for secession was held at Abbeville, S.C., Nov. 22, 1860. ---------- The last cabinet meeting was held at Abbeville, S.C., May 2, 1865.

Various shops surround the square. Sue found a jewelry store that she liked. We guys spread out a bit to see what else there was.

The menfolk walked down a side street to find Trinity Episcopal Church. It is the oldest standing church in Abbeville. Though it is quite old -- erected in 1859 -- there are churches in Charleston South Carolina that are a hundred years older. We went into the church and heard organ music. The organist was practicing for the Easter service coming up in a couple of weeks. Trinity has a pipe organ whose parts were purchased from England when the building was new. It is very rare, a Baker tracker style, and is being rebuilt presently. It was shipped to Charleston for assembly there, then disassembled for the wagon trip out into the wilderness here. Meanwhile, the church has a very nice electronic organ that provides music for worship services. Episcopal churches almost invariably use traditional-sounding organ music. There is a historical marker nearby that describes the church. That website also tells of several other nearby historical markers.



Some information about the church, from their website:

"Trinity Episcopal Church was founded in 1842. Thomas Parker is considered the founder. The congregation worshiped in the Court House until a small white clapboard building in 1843 on the site of the present building.

"In 1858, members of the vestry, whose names appear on the pews they occupied, felt the growing and affluent congregation needed a larger building.

"George Walker, a Columbia architect, was chosen and he designed the building in the French Gothic Revival style which was appropriate as Abbeville was named for Abbeville, France. The total cost, including the organ, was $15,665.00.

"The cornerstone was laid in 1859. The walls are solid brick, using brick made on the premises, and covered by a cement-like exterior, called "rough case". This was a common Victorian practice to cover bricks that were porous. All interior woodwork was done by local craftsmen and is grained in the manner of the day. Graining was a decorative device of the day -often called faux bois or false wood. The steeple is 120 feet tall and in spite of local lore, no one was killed during its erection. The large gold cross atop the spire had long dominated the Abbeville skyline.

"On November 4, 1860, not quite three weeks before the fateful Secession meeting was held in Abbeville, the service of consecration was held. On November 22, the Secession meeting was held and the old South was gone forever.

"We assume that all the windows at the time the church opened were like the one on the south side of the nave just in front of the balcony. This is stenciled on glass and was a good substitute for colored or stained glass during the mid-nineteenth century. The children's window, next to the new organ was given by long-ago children in the congregation. The diamond-paned windows were given by nineteenth century vestrymen. We have no information about the Tiffany-styled windows above and beside the entrance doors.

"The large chancel window was a gift from a "Greenville church" and was ordered from England to be placed at the time of consecration. Unfortunately, the window did not arrive until 1863, having run the blockade in Charleston harbor. It was not the Trinity window ordered for this church and the story is that it was to have been sent to a northern church. Since it was wartime, the window was kept and the wall altered to fit. The Epiphany window, next to the Baker organ, was given by members of the Lovell and Cheves families and was installed in 1941 when Trinity was closed and services, with the exception of funerals, homecomings, etc., were not held in the church.

"The bell in the steeple was given by J. Foster Marshall, an early member of the Trinity congregation. During the War Between the States, the Confederate government wanted the bell for war materials, but it was found to be made of unsuitable metal and will peal out again when repairs are made to the tower.

"At the request of the congregation, only two people are buried in the church garden. Foster Marshall and his wife, Elizabeth, both longtime and long ago benefactors of the church. Marshall was killed in 1862 at the Second Battle of Manassas.

"The congregation began to dwindle after World War I and ceased to hold regular services in the early thirties. In the late 1940's, former members, now retired, began to come home to Abbeville and were successful in reopening the church. The first full-time vicar was appointed in 1954, and regular services have continued.

"There is a beautiful old cemetery a short distance behind the church. Many veterans of Confederate service are buried here, as well as six Confederate soldiers who died of illness having been taken off the train in Abbeville. There is also one Union soldier buried here."

A nearby historical marker:


This is the facade of the Baker tracker pipe organ that is as old as the church. The pipes on the front are decorative show pipes and do not speak. The actual pipes are behind the facade. Tracker means that the keys are attached by means of wooden links to the flap valve beneath the pipes. (Modern pipe organs use electrical connections instead.) Note the objects under plasting sheeting to the right of the organ. Those are the rebuilt pipe chests awating installation.



As we walked out of the church, another unusual thing caught our eye. On the corner across the street is the former Trinity Street Motors automobile dealership that now houses a slot car shop called Slots of Fun. Clever name. One track is an eight-lane affair with banked curves that was popular some years ago, and they have two other circuit tracks and a drag race track as well. There was crowd inside, a mix of kids and adults, working on cars and preparing for a race. I thought all of these places had gone by the wayside, but not here in little Abbeville!




Track photos from their website:






The owner, Don Berni:


As I walked out of the slot car shop, a man and his two children saw me and asked if I had dropped out of a spaceship.



I said that I had not. Rather, that I had ridden in on a motorcycle parked a block away. The father turned to his son and told him that if he were ever to ride a motorcycle, this is the way he would have to dress -- armor plus leather. The boy listened wide-eyed as I described why that was important. The words "blunt trauma" and "road rash" seemed interesting to him...as well they should. Maybe he will remember this quick lesson if he takes up riding.

By the way, the two kids were dressed in Revolutionary or Civil War-era clothing, so I was not the only unusually dressed person about the area. I asked why they were dressed such, and they said that they were taking part in a reenactment to be held in Ninety-Six South Carolina, about twenty miles east of Abbeville, later that day. There are quite a few groups and places here that do these Revolutionary and Civil War reenactments, so there is a demand for period dress, weapons, and other accessories such as cooking and camp equipment. In fact, there is a store right on this street, a few doors down from the slot car track, that sells some of these things. It is called Mercers 96 District Storehouse. I didn't have time to go in, but it looks like they sell lots of the things you might need to become a pioneer or soldier. Their outside clock doesn't work or had not been wound lately, though. It was not ten minutes to eight when we visited.





Another interesting place to visit some time is the Ice Shack ice cream shop. They also sell hot dogs and sandwiches. They advertise that they have a public restroom, probably so people stop in to use the facilities then stay for some eats.



Abbeville and the surrounding area has many other historic sites. See the Old 96 District website for more information.

As I walk back to where our bikes are parked, a group of mostly Harley riders swoops into town and parks on the opposite side of the square. They dismount and walk somewhere down the side street, possibly to the ice cream shop. As they do, another group comes through town. This one is also mostly Harleys but has one sport-touring bike amongst them. They continue on without stopping. Our group is the smallest we have seen so far.



We gather up and ride a couple of miles outside town to the restaurant we have picked to eat at today. It is Yoder's Dutch Kitchen, run by an Mennonite family. We arrive just about noon. Perfect timing. They serve cafeteria style and make most of their dishes from scratch. I had a fried pork chop, mashed potatoes, and green beans swimming in ham juice. Their Dutch apple pie is also home made and totally covered with that crumbly sweet stuff. I had a piece. I couldn't resist...it was calling to me from the desert counter. They give you a good-sized piece, too. You can buy an entire pie to take home with you. (I was tempted, but I think the motorcycle ride might have destroyed it.) If the server sticks a toothpick into your food when she serves it, you get a little discount. I don't know what prompts her to do that, but I was grateful that she did. Every dollar counts these days.




My companions had a variety of foods: cabbage roll, fried chicken, greens (yuck), creamed corn (also yuck), macaroni and cheese, corn bread, chocolate pie, and iced tea -- sweet of course (this is the South, after all).

We paid the bills and waddled back outside. A nap under some nearby trees would have felt good. The temperature had climbed into the high sixties, so I took off a layer from under my suit and put away the balaclava and neck warmer. We rode another thirty miles or so to the junction of SC-81 and SC-72 and stopped at a gas station so Sue could fill up.

About the time we got parked, a raft of motorcycles started going by. This group was made up of mostly Harleys and one, lonely sportbike. There had to be a hundred of more bikes all together. They used the [illegal] technique of starting the group through the intersection traffic light and continuing to flow through it against the light until all had cleared. I don't know who the group was, but our little group paled in comparison with it. (Pay attention to those fellows on the right, watching the bikers pass by. We'll hear about one of them in a minute.)



But first, something that is probably not original with me: Why do Harley riders frequently dress like pirates in black leather and do-rags while sportbikers look like Power Rangers? Is there a rule book somewhere that I have missed? For me, I'll go the Power Ranger direction every time -- better protection and good looking as well. Harley riders, why don't you try it?

After most of the bikers had passed, we turned our attention to our other surroundings. There was a man with a cane, poking around with it in the trunk of his car while another fellow looked on. (He was one of those I mentioned earlier who were watching the parade go by.) After a little while, he closed the trunk and walked over to a bench in front of the gas station to sit for a spell. I couldn't help but ask him what was in his trunk. At first I didn't understand what he said, so I cupped my ear and asked him to repeat himself.

He said, "I have a turtle in there." "A turtle?" I exclaimed. He said, "Yes," and did I want to see it? "You bet I do, sir." Well, the man, whose name is Robert, got up and walked back to his car, opened the trunk, and extracted his turtle.

Here it is:



Yep. That's a turtle all right.


















Now, lets put this into proper proportion:



Yes! That's REALLY a turtle. ...and he looks a bit menacing here...



Upon further investigation, Robert said that a friend had caught this snapping turtle and had given it to him. He intended to make turtle stew from it. The reptile had impressive claws and occasionally struck out to bite anything that it thought was near enough to catch. I didn't get too close despite the taunting of my, um, "friends" to do so. Robert said it would be good eatin', and asked whether any of us had ever had turtle. I had eaten turtle soup -- called snapper soup -- in the famous Philadelphia restaurant Old Original Bookbinder's. It is a heavy, brown soup that tastes a little like thick gravy. They offer you some sherry to flavor it.

Robert instructed us on proper handling of large, long-clawed turtles, then put the animal back into his trunk.



We returned to our bikes for the last leg of our journey.

We cruised on mostly country roads until we reached Easley again. It occurs to me that some of the town names we passed through today were rather unusual: Cheddar, Honea Path, Due West, Buck Stand, Iva, Gluck, and nearby Ninety-Six. I'll have to do some research to find out how these names came to be.

The day was perfect for riding in every way. God gave us the opportunity to have this time together in His creation.

Here are some flowers that were blooming today.



We make it back to the church, and part ways. I fill up, then ride a few more miles before going home. I don't want to stop. There are many others out on their scoots today, and I am pleased to be one of them.










I wonder how the turtle tasted...
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Caesars Head, a Bank Safe on the Move, and Scooters on a Beautiful Day.

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Today is expected to be clear and warm later, so I started out on my bike in the morning. On Saturdays, I usually go in to work for a few hours, then take off for a ride.

I am having the waist zipper of my usual Fieldsheer two-piece leather suit repaired, so I wore my AGV Sport Forza one-piece suit.



This suit is not as well made as the Fieldsheer it doesn't seem to me: The edges are not as well tailored, and the fit, especially in the thighs, is not as good. The suit is red and black with silver logos, so it looks good with the Ninja (an extremely important attribute, I am sure you will agree! <--tongue firmly planted in cheek).
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The fit of the suit allows a little insulation under it, and the fit is much better that way. Today is expected to be cool -- about forty degrees to start -- and since this suit is perforated, I put on a layer or two of fleece insulation and thin Nylon windbreaker jacket and pants under it. As usual, I wear my Juggernaut armored shirt over the fleece and under the Nylon. The armor has been removed from the upper part of the suit to make room for the armored shirt. With that setup, I am just slightly too cool at forty degrees, but am not too hot until about 65 degrees. Should be ideal today.
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There is only one problem: I cannot get myself into or out of the one-piece leather suit. Try as I might, my arms can't be in the sleeves and helping to pull them on at the same time, so I resort to asking my wife or son for help. They struggle to get everything pulled up where it needs to be and I zip myself in. Once in, the suit is quite comfortable with little or no restriction of movement.
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Oh. The suit has knee pucks too. Makes me look like I might know what I'm doing anyway, though they have never touched the tarmac. Maybe I should take them to the sander so they look like they have -- not!
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I put in my earplugs, pull on my thin balaclava, neck warmer, and helmet and start up the bike. I let it idle while I close the garage door and put my glove liners and gloves on. I also turn on the grip heaters to help keep the chill away. By the time I have my gloves on, the ECU has come off fast idle, and I'm ready to go. I mount up and start out.
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One other problem is that I have not thought of where to ride today. Oh well, once I leave work, something will occur to me. The ride to work is only about fifteen minutes, but it is an enjoyable ride with little traffic through our small town. I pass familiar sights on the way. One is a rock house whose builder visited England several times so he could pattern his house after an authentic English cottage. It is a restaurant now.



The railroad tracks that run through the center of town parallel with the main street are usually busy, but with the economic downturn there is less freight to carry and so fewer trains. It still excites me to be only thirty feet or so from a train, pacing it along on the street.

Here are some shots taken on a rainy early spring morning.





I spend a couple of hours at work getting some things done that I did not have time for during the week. I collaborate on some of it with the fellow who encouraged me when I asked if he thought I could learn to ride a motorcycle. He would like to own one again some day, but not now. I am sure it would be a pleasure riding with him.

After I finish at work, I go out and get ready to ride again, but I have yet to decide where. Once out of the parking lot, I head to the north on SC-135. This is the road that leads to Pumpkintown, and I follow SC-8 from there to SC-11. I have noticed that the pavement is dry and there are no signs of sand or salt from the snows we had a couple of weeks ago.

I decide to go up to Caesars Head. It is only eight or nine miles up the Blue Ridge escarpment from SC-11. This is a twisty road, but the lanes are fairly wide and the vegetation is well back from the berm in most places. The views ahead on the curves are generally good, especially with the tress and brush not yet leafed out. The pavement is generally good, but with a few rough spots that seem to be just at the wrong places in the turns for me.

The skies are still overcast, but there is some sun peeking through in places. I pass about a dozen bicycle riders at various points laboring up the hill. Most of these guys are well-experienced, but are still challenged by the grade. Many local bicycle riders like this road for the challenge and enjoyment of conquering it. I must sheepishly admit that one of the previous times I came here, I started out at the top and headed down just after a bicyclist had left. He was vary fast on the downgrade, and my downhill curve inexperience and caution in passing him caused me to be slower than he was most of the way. Only when we came upon a straight section near the bottom did I feel up to passing him. His confidence in the tiny tires of his bike was certainly more than my confidence in mine.

That brings to mind a point that is very much the case with many riders including myself: The bike is capable of much more performance than the rider can extract from it. I am certain that my Ninja 650R can take the curves at a much faster pace and at much greater lean angles than I think it can. Yet, I don't want to routinely ride at my or my bike's limit: I want to leave some of the bike's capability to help get out of unexpected situations. That means that I must make sure my riding ability is up to it. A good short article about this is one by Reg Pridemore. He says about coming into a turn too hot, in essence:

• DECIDE TO MAKE IT
• LEAD WITH YOUR EYES
• BRAKE DEEP, LEAN HARD
• LEARN FROM THIS EXPERIENCE

Additional training such as Lee Parks' Total Control Advanced Riding Clinic or a track school might be in order. I may take the Motorcycle Safety Foundation [MSF] Advanced class this summer, though it does not address higher speed cornering.

Well, I have rambled quite a bit here, so let me get back to telling you about the ride.

Caesars Head is an easy-to-get-to spot that overlooks the lower elevations of the upstate of South Carolina. The Blue Ridge escarpment rises some 2000 feet in a short distance giving us some of the best motorcycle roads in the country, great views, challenging hikes, and a large number of interesting features such as waterfalls. I enjoy researching then visiting these places on the scooter and writing about them here.

The view from Caesars Head can be quite far, though today it is a bit overcast and hazy. The name Blue Ridge was selected because of the bluish haze that frequently blankets the area. In fact the Blue Ridge Mountains' name originated because of the bluish haze caused by hydrocarbons released by trees into the atmosphere. Aha. I knew that man wasn't the only polluter on the planet. Those darn trees are part of it. Now what will the tree huggers have to say about that? Cut them all down? I doubt it!

The Caesars Head overlook is a very short walk from the parking lot, and it is a favorite stopping point for tourists of all kinds -- bicycles, motorcycles, and cages.



The elevation back in Easley is 1079 feet above sea level, so we are 2187 feet higher here than there. This point is about thirty miles from home, so the average elevation change has been about seventy three feet per mile, though mostly concentrated in the last nine miles or so.

There is a narrow section called Devil's Kitchen in a fracture in some huge rocks. There are steps down into the fracture and a path back out the other end. Today I have left my gloves and helmet on because it is cold, and I find that I must be careful that my fat helmeted head doesn't hit the rocks as I siddle through the gap. The rocks fractured at an angle making it a bit more difficult to stand up straight and get through.









I make it fine, and go to the fenced overlooks to gaze for a few minutes.



The view takes in a lake, the Table Rock Reservoir, that serves the Greenville metropolitan area. It is near Table Rock State Park that I have visited many times.





This sign nearby details the mountains and other geological features visible from here.



This is what the profile of Caesars Head looks like in profile, taken from a Department of Geosciences at the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee webpage.

To orient you, the picture below is taken from below and to the right of the observation platform pictured previously.



Here is a better picture with some of the lower elevations included.



After I walk back to the parking area, I begin to mount up again.



Two riders on Goldwings pull in to park and we talk for a few minutes. It turns out that one of the guys is an MSF instructor in Greenwood South Carolina. He asked me if I had taken the Advanced Class. I told him that I had not, but wished to do so soon. He said that he thinks the class helps riders of about my level of experience and beyond. Greenwood is about sixty-three miles from here, so it is a possibility, though Spartanburg is closer. That is where I took the Beginner class.

I looked over the edge of the parking lot at the road leading north from Caesars head. It looked free of the sand that is used in the mountains here and abouts when there is danger of ice, so I turned left out of the parking lot and headed north. The road is slightly curvy for a short distance, then becomes mostly sweepers until the North Carolina town of Brevard.



The annual Brevard Music Festival is held here. The highbrows flock to it, and I expect that the politics is fairly liberal here. I say this because there is usually a group of 1970s-looking long-haired men and their womenfolk wielding anti-war signs on one of the downtown street corners. I wonder if they realize that their freedom to demonstrate was won by soldiers' blood shed on the battlefields of the world. Today, the protesters must have something else to do, since there is no sign of them.

I stop at the Chamber of Commerce for some local area info, and spot a scooter parked in front of the coffee shop next door. It is a Keeway Matrix 50 Racing Sport two-stroke scooter, but the thing that attracts my eye is the wooden box on the footboards. It appears to be nicely made of pine, and you will note that it shows signs of having been dragged on the street in a tight corner perhaps, though the box was likely turned end for end on the scooter floorboards when it dragged, judging form the marks on it.

It also has a nice-looking tail box with a well-worn soft knapsack slung under it. The hard box sports several SCUBA diving stickers, and a couple of stickers with a fish on it. The wooden box has mitered corners and no apparent lid. Does it stay there for helping support groceries? That doesn't seem right. It would be better to make the box with an open top so the grocery bags could snuggle down inside. Does it contain something vital and the entire box comes off when needed? Is it for someone's feet to rest on who is extremely short? That doesn't seem right either, since there are no dirty footprints on the box. Did the rider just happen to find or purchase the box and needed to get it home? I waited for some time, for the owner, but he never materialized. By the way, did you notice that he has a full-face helmet in a matching color? I wonder if he wears any other protective gear. If you see this, Brevard scooter rider, please let us know what the box is for.





I motor through the rest of the downtown area. There are many specialty shops that cater to the elite, but there are also several thrift shops. I enjoy shopping at the latter, as you never know what you might find -- maybe even some accessory for the motorcycle. I have found a nice specimen of an ICON TyMax jacket at such a store in the past. Alas, I don't take the time to stop today. I must be on my way, but where to? I could turn back the way I came, but I'd rather go somewhere I have not been recently.

I decide and head out of town toward Hendersonville North Carolina on route US-64. This road is rather plain and almost straight, and there is considerable traffic today. It is about twenty miles to Hendersonville. I feel refreshed a bit when I finally enter the downtown section after the boring road and a stretch of rather run down houses and businesses close to town. Next time, I'll try to find some more interesting roads between here and Brevard.

I cruse down the main street and see the old Henderson County courthouse. There is a nice little museum located inside. It contains displays of local heritage. They won't allow photography inside, but there are interesting displays relating to the history, culture, heritage, the story of the founding settlement, and development of Henderson County. The courthouse, built in 1905, was designed by Richard Sharp Smith, the supervising architect of Biltmore House in Asheville North Carolina. It is built of brick in a neoclassical revival style featuring six Corinthian columns on the front and four columns for each of the two side porticos. The focal point of the Courthouse is atop the copper dome -- a six-foot statue of “Lady Justice.” The statue is the Greek goddess Themis, standing for Divine Justice and Law, who is without a blindfold, holding a sword in her right hand, and scales in her left. It is believed to be only one of only three in the United States without a blindfold. Statues of Themis/Justice are blindfolded to symbolize that Justice should be impartial.




My tank bag and helmet are seen in this view.



After I leave the museum, I ride down the main street of the downtown area. It is one of those city streets where they have put in angled parking along the curbs, which causes the driving lanes to swerve from one side of the street to the other so the parking is evenly distributed on both sides of the street. That, coupled with frequent pedestrian crosswalks and stop signs at every cross street make for a maze that makes me feel a bit like a mouse searching for a hunk cheese. It is a bit artsy, like Brevard.





On my way through the maze, I see an odd sight. There is a tow truck parked with its warning lights on and a group of men hoisting something large and rectangular with its hook. Upon closer inspection, the "something" is a large two-door safe. Apparently the group is loading it up to take it away. I must say that this is the first time I have seen a tow truck being used to move such a seemingly stationary object. I watch for a few minutes as they secure the straps and drive off to places unknown. The safe was probably in the Old State Trust Co. building, on the corner of 4th and Main Street, now the Henderson County Genealogical & Historical Society.



That building has an unusual clock attached to the outside corner, the McClintock Chime Clock. This unique clock is about 65 years old, and was restored by the Western North Carolina Chapter of the National Association of Clock and Watch Collectors. Public clocks like this one were used to attract customers to businesses and served the utilitarian purpose of keeping time when not everyone carried or could afford a watch.



By the way, did you notice the spring flowers coming out in the pictures above? Here are a few pictures of a pale yellow daffodil and peach blossoms with forsythia in the background.




While I am observing the safe heist...er, hoist, I spot a scooter parked a few spaces in front of me. It is a Yamaha Morphous, with a 249cc DOHC four-stroke engine. It has, I think, a swoopy look to it.



Last year when I was in Hendersonville, I saw a similar but more unusual scooter, a Honda Helix with a sidecar. Now, a Honda Helix is a 244cc four-stroke so it is in the same class as the Morphous, but this one was different: It had a sidecar attached. It must be pretty stout to be able to handle the driver and the loaded sidecar.



After I inspect the Yamaha scooter and snap its picture, I turn and find that there is a storefront made of rather nice looking naturally finished wood. It is the of Goldcrafters of London fine jewelry store. Quite attractive, and probably appealing to the more well-heeled residents. I pass up the opportunity to go inside, since my heels are somewhat less well fixed.



It is getting to be mid-afternoon, and I need to get home to do some chores. I am still about sixty miles from there, so I head toward US-25 and go south. There is a section that is a long, relatively steep four-lane road. I am headed downhill, and it is easy to go faster than the speed limit here. The law enforcement officers of the area know this and it is a favorite place for them to take pictures of travelers with their radar guns. I don't see any today, but I ride at about the speed limit anyway.

I pass by the road that leads to Poinsett Bridge, a stone bridge built in 1820, in the days of stagecoach travel. It is named for Joel Roberts Poinsett. The road over the bridge originally extended from Columbia, South Carolina to Saluda Mountain. It is an interesting place to visit, so I will write about it in a future posting.

I also pass the little town of Travelers Rest, Furman University, and go on into the northern outskirts of Greenville. I want to stop at the Cycle Gear Store to see if they have the latest issue of Motorcycle Lifestyle Magazine.



I wrote an article about do-it-yourself leather cleaning for the magazine and I want to see if it is in the latest issue. I pull into the parking lot, and see three squids there with their bikes, Mowhawked helmets, and little in the way of protective gear. I nod to them and wonder at what would happen if they slipped off their bikes and onto the pavement. They are all quite young -- probably in their twenties -- so they likely still think they are invincible. That is a good feeling, but can get you into trouble on the likes of a motorcycle (and in other places as well).

I go into the store and look around a bit. There are quite a few people inside. I hope this means that their business is better than it has been. The economy has taken its toll on all businesses including motorcycles, since they might be viewed as playthings rather than necessities. I certainly wish our legislators would leave the free market alone and cut taxes so we can use our money the way we please and get this economy rolling again. All of us would be wealthier without their "help."

I don't see anything I want to buy today, so I go over to the wire stand with the magazines on it. Sure enough, there is the newest issue of the magazine. My palms are sweaty as I pick up a copy and peruse the cover. My article is not listed there. Did it not make the cut? I go to the table of contents and find that it is indeed in this issue. With shaking hands, I rapidly flip through the pages to find it, and there it is. The editor and publisher Norm Blore does this magazine on a shoestring, but it is slick and professional looking. My article is there for all to see, complete with before and after pictures of a suit I washed at home. It turned out well, so I wrote the article and submitted it.

I am now published...a first for me! I carefully cradle the magazine in my hands and take it to my bike where I tuck it into my tank bag for the journey home.

I put my helmet and gloves back on for the final leg to the other side of Greenville. The temperature has risen to about sixty-five degrees, so it is pleasantly warm now. The downtown main street is tree-lined and attractive, but there is some sort of a traffic jam so I bypass riding through there. A few more miles on city streets, and I enter the four lane highway toward home. I reach there in just a short time.

Now to get out of this suit....

After receiving some help, I reluctantly stow my gear, clean up the bike a little, and return to daily life.

My spur-of-the moment ride has taken me about a hundred and thirty-six miles today.



Here is a great picture taken from the Caesars Head overlook found on the Sunday Morning Rides website.



Compare this to my hazy pictures from above.

I'm standing in the same place in this one:

Good Use for an Old Motorcycle Helmet

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I have a Shoei helmet that was new many years ago. I wore it a few times when I first started riding, before I bought a new helmet. The lining is worn, and the face shield is scratched, I am sure the energy absorbing materials have lost their ability, but the outside still looks presentable.

I am not inclined, by nature, to get rid of anything that has any utility left in it. So, the dilemma: What to do with this fine helmet?

I think I have found a good use for it -- as a picture frame in my office.

I took a snapshot of the bike, printed it on nice glossy paper, and attached it inside the face shield. My picture-helmet resides in my office now as a conversation piece and as a way to remind me that there may be a ride coming up in the evening or on the weekend that will take my mind off the trials of the business world.



...and it sure beats discarding a perfectly good [looking] helmet.
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